Running
by NerdBurga
Summary: AU. A fourteen year old Tony is running, only to run right into Gibbs and his team. Maybe he's finally found someone who will help instead of leaving him out in the cold. You know how it goes. Another Gibbs/Tony Father/Son story, because really, I just can't get enough of them. Have started updating again :D Though I can't promise they will be frequent.
1. Chapter 1

**Why do I always make Senior the bad guy? I mean, sure, he's not the best parent but come on guys, he isn't evil! Eugh, now I feel guilty. Sorry Senior.**

**Warnings: there will be mentions of child abuse. Also, anyone who's read any of my other multichapter fics will vouch for this; I'm known for both cliffhangers and erratic updating. Not a good combination I know. So I apologise in advance for that. You have been warned.**

"Junior! Junior get back here!"

Anthony DiNozzo Junior turned his head just as he was halfway through the open window of his bedroom on the second floor. His door shook as the man on the other side realised it was locked.

"Open this door Junior!"

Tony looked back to the grass outside, fighting with the butterflies in his stomach. _I can make it_, he thought desperately,_ I can make it._

Suddenly the door was wrenched open, his furious father storming into the room. Senior's eyes widened as he saw his son preparing to jump. "What the hell do you think you're doing Anthony?" he asked breathlessly. Tony only glared in response, one foot dangling in the open air, the other perched on his bedroom floor. Immediately Senior's demeanour once again changed, going back to red-faced and angry. "You get your ass back in here this instant!"

Tony shook his head and tried to sound determined. "Not this time Dad." With that he swiped his other leg out the window and leapt down, bracing his legs for the impact. Senior ran to the window, hearing a cry of pain as he did so, and looked out the window into their large backyard. Tony was crumpled on the floor, holding his left leg with pain etched into his face.

Senior smirked. "Serves you right, you ungrateful little brat!" With that he turned from the window and rushed through the elaborate house, taking the polished wooden steps two at a time. Finally he stormed out the back door, ready to teach his fourteen year old a lesson for being so arrogant.

But Tony was no longer sitting in pain beneath his window. Senior looked around, panic and more anger beginning to set in.

Tony was gone.

* * *

Anthony DiNozzo Junior was exhausted.

He'd been running, or rather limping quickly, for hours, unable to convince himself he'd gotten far enough away. He wasn't sure he'd ever feel like he was far enough away. Tony shook his head as he turned another corner. Occasionally he'd pass someone, but they took little notice of the small, shivering boy with a limp. He was also now completely lost. This was a very different neighbourhood to where he'd grown up. There the grass was green, the plants all manicured, the houses big, the fences high, and violence was hidden behind closed but ornate doors. Here the grass grew weakly in patches, the houses were small and grimy, and violence had no problem taking place on the streets.

Still unable to escape his own paranoia, Tony slipped into the next alley he could find, welcoming the increasing darkness of late evening as just another way to hide.

Tony couldn't remember ever being afraid of the dark. It had always been more of a friend to him.

Finally, after two more turns, Tony found himself in a crossroad of cold and wet alleys, and allowed himself to slow down. His ankle was now twice it's normal size and throbbing painfully. His lower back killed as well, and he had a pounding headache. Things weren't looking good for Tony, and he didn't have anywhere to sleep tonight.

_Maybe I should have thought this through_, he pondered grimly. But it had been a bit of a snap decision - he hadn't exactly had time to pack

Tony chose a random direction and slowly wandered down that alley, leaning heavily against the wall for support as his leg continued to increase in pain. He wiped frustrated tears out of his eyes, gingerly dabbing at the right one which was still bruised.

"DiNozzos don't cry," he whispered out of habit.

His mood was not helped when halfway down the alley he tripped, further bruising his broken ankle. Unable to stop the cry of pain and surprise, he fell face forward to the ground, just barely managing to throw his arms out in time to falter his descent. He shifted to face the sky and slowly dragged himself back to get a better look at what he had tripped over. It took a moment to focus in the steadying darkness, but finally Tony was able to make out the general shape of something big and heavy blocking the way. Tony squinted, trying to see exactly what it was.

When it finally came into focus, Tony cried out again, desperately shuffling back, as far away as he could.

He had stumbled right over a body.

* * *

Ziva David watched the clock at the bottom of her computer screen, silently egging it on. Just a few more minutes and it would be time to leave, time to go home - or rather time to go to a bar and have a much needed drink.

"You know what they say about the watched pot Ziva," commented Timothy McGee from his own desk.

"It does not call the kettle black," replied Ziva with a dismissive wave. "What's your point?"

McGee just shook his head. There were only so many idioms you could bear to correct in one week. "The last few days have been tough," he said instead. "It'll be nice to get the weekend off."

Ziva turned her gaze from the computer to her partner, confused. "It is Tuesday."

McGee's eyes widened. "We worked through the weekend?"

"It seems I am not the only one who could do with a drink," said Ziva drily.

"Yeah, well, that'll have to wait," said Leroy Jethro Gibbs as he entered the bullpen. Ziva and McGee looked horrified.

"Boss, no," said Tim disbelievingly. "Not another one."

"Yup, body found, LEOs identified him as a marine." Said Gibbs, grabbing his coat and gun. "Let's go."

Ziva allowed herself one moment of pity and a last glare at her too-slow clock before joining the others in the elevator.

* * *

The NCIS team identified themselves as they entered the crime scene, a worn and defaced alley surrounded by yellow tape.

"Don't know much to tell ya," said Stevenson, the cop in charge. "His ID puts him as Michael Hepburn, and his dog tags identified him as a marine. We haven't really had a chance to find anything else out since we called you. Got here pretty fast."

"You didn't touch the body did you?" asked Ducky as he sidled up next to Gibbs.

"Nah," grinned the cop. "Heard how you guys are about that stuff. Other than checking his pockets for his wallet and looking at his dog tags, the guy's untouched."

"That still counts as touching the body! You leave it alone until the official medical examiner gets here!" Ducky ranted on unhappily as he left them to go examine the marine, Jimmy Palmer following close behind with an apologetic look to Stevenson.

"Who found the body?" asked Gibbs. Stevenson pointed towards a young boy leaning against the wall at the mouth of the alley, looking small, frightened and angry all at once. He had a black eye and a cut lip, and he was holding his leg out at a funny angle.

"Why is he in handcuffs?" asked Ziva, noticing the glint of dull silver around his wrists. The boy stared at his hands as if oblivious to anyone's presence.

Stevenson looked stony faced as he replied. "Used a pay phone to call us in, but tried running off as soon as we got here. Didn't get very far though, his leg must be gammy."

"Did you tackle him or something?" asked McGee, taking in the boy's dishevelled appearance.

"Nah, he was already like that. Not really a surprise in this part of town."

"Alright, NCIS will take it from here," said Gibbs, effectively ending the conversation. "We'll call if we need anything." Stevenson nodded and called his men back, to 'let the feds to their thing'. He handed the key for the handcuffs to Gibbs as he left.

"Be needin' them back when you're done agent," he said with a last suspicious look to the teenager.

"McGee, bag and tag, Ziva, photos, you know the drill."

"Got it Boss." The agents stepped under the tape and into the alley, setting up lights to get a better look as the moon began to rise. Gibbs then turned to the boy, who was beginning to shiver uncontrollably. He observed the young one silently for a moment before taking off his coat and offering it to him.

The boy completely ignored the gesture, continuing to stare at his chained hands. Gibbs shrugged and dropped the coat by his feet before sitting down next to him. The agent silently noted how his witness flinched away when their shoulders brushed against each other.

"You found the body?" asked Gibbs in a casual voice. He was given no answer. Gibbs observed the dirty but fine clothes, the expensive sneakers, the broken but elegant watch on his skinny arm. Not a kid from around these parts then. So what got him so banged up?

After a moment of silence Gibbs tried again. "What's your name?"

Nothing.

"Well, I'm Gibbs."

Finally he got a small reaction; the boy's eyebrows furrowed together slightly and his mouth twitched upwards.

"Something on your mind?"

The boy turned to him, looking him up and down quickly before going back to staring at his hands. "It's just - " the boy paused, giving the agent another once over before continuing in a small voice. "What kind of a name is Gibbs?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! Intense response (for me anyway) to this story. Thanks so much guys! One question: Are the chapters a bit too short?**

**To Druuu, I do realise Tony would have originally been at military school but I decided since it was already AU I would change that around a bit. I use the excuse of creative license ;) But seriously, thanks to everyone who reviewed.**

"At least I have a name," said Gibbs with a smirk. He tried not to like the kid too much straight away.

Two cynical green eyes analysed him once more before the boy finally said "Tony. Just Tony."

"Alright Tony, you ready to tell me what happened?"

Tony picked at dirt under his fingernails distractedly as he talked. "I just… tripped over him. I was… taking a walk and suddenly stumbled across…" he gestured to the mouth of the alley.

"You see anyone else?"

Tony shook his head once before wincing. "Can I… Can I go now?"

"You have someone to come pick you up?" asked Gibbs.

Tony's good eye widened and he moved another inch away from Gibbs, most likely without realising it. He took in a deep breath before answering stubbornly "I can walk."

Gibbs studied the boy a moment. "I'm going to ask you to wait here a bit longer. Might have some follow up questions for you."

"Not really asking if I don't have a choice," muttered Tony bitterly. Gibbs smiled.

"That's true," he admitted. Pulling out the key, Gibbs unlocked Tony's handcuffs. "So now I'm asking." With that he stood up and headed for the alley, pretending not to notice out of the corner of his eye when the kid grabbed his coat and wrapped it around himself.

"What have we got?" barked Gibbs as he joined his team.

"Ah, Jethro, nice of you to join us," said Ducky breezily. "It seems this poor young man took a bullet to the stomach and bled to death. Must have been very slow and painful. It's a wonder he didn't try to get to a hospital."

"Gibbs," Ziva caught his attention from near the other end of the alley. "I have a shell casing. Looks to be that of a .45 calibre."

"A common gun in gang circles," muttered Gibbs.

"It would make sense in this neighbourhood," pointed out Ziva. "What does not make sense is boys that age running around streets such as these," she went on in a quieter voice. "I thought America was supposed to be against such atrocities."

"He's not from here Ziva," said Gibbs, walking back to the body.

"Then where is he from?"

"I don't know Agent David, why don't you find out?" he suggested in an exasperated voice.

"Boss, Petty Officer Hepburn has a juvie record," announced McGee as he approached. Reading from his fingerprint scanner, he stated "got charged for stealing a car when he was 16."

Gibbs absorbed the new information, piecing together parts of the puzzle in his head. But something kept distracting him. Something out on the street using his coat as a blanket.

"All right Mr Palmer," said Ducky as he slowly got to his feet, "let's get this young man back to autopsy. There's not much else we can do for him here."

As McGee piled evidence into the van, Gibbs walked back out onto the street where Ziva was crouched and talking in a low voice to Tony, who seemed completely unresponsive. The team leader walked quietly up to them until Ziva's voice was within earshot.

"If you tell me how to get in touch with your parents we can get this sorted out in no time." Ziva talked in a reassuring voice, but Tony remained still, glaring at the ground.

"Tony," Gibbs stepped in, making sure not to get too close and make this mysterious boy feel like he was boxed in. "Do you have anyone to call?"

Tony began picking at a loose fibre in Gibbs's jacket. A humourless smile danced across his face as he muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" asked Ziva, leaning in.

"I could call Ghostbusters," suggested Tony, still picking at the fibre. Gibbs let out a breath and smirked while Ziva just looked confused. Seeing her expression, Tony elaborated. "You know, when you're asked who you're going to call, it's gotta be Ghostbusters." At Ziva's silence he went on, "Who you gunna call? Ghostbusters? With Bill Murray?"

"I'm afraid I do not understand," admitted Ziva almost sheepishly. The look of horror on Tony's young face was almost comical and Gibbs had to turn away to hide his smile. As Tony began to explain the logic of Ghostbusters, in perhaps the most animated mood any of them had seen of him, Gibbs flipped open his phone and hit speed dial.

"Abby's lab of wonder and magic, how may I help you?"

"Hey, Abs," Gibbs greeted with a glance back to Tony. "How do you feel about having a friend for the evening?"

* * *

"Whaddya got Duck?" asked Gibbs over the sound of pressurised doors opening. Autopsy was lit brilliantly in contrast with the darkness outside.

"Right on time, as usual Jethro," welcomed Ducky. Palmer nodded in greeting but stayed silent, paranoid of putting his foot in his mouth like he usually did around the team leader. "What we have here is a rather cliché situation I'm afraid.

"Walk me through it."

"Yes, well," began Ducky as he went back to scrutinising the cadaver. "As I earlier stated, Officer Hepburn bled out from a bullet wound to the stomach, what we now know was a hollow point, which would explain the internal damage." Ducky gestured to a specimen jar that Jimmy was holding, a stained bullet inside. As they continued talking Palmer left the room, taking the bullet upstairs to forensics. "Unfortunately though, this was not the only bit of pain our sailor suffered." Ducky lifted up the right hand where the knuckles were red and loose. "All of his fingers were broken, as well as his toes, periodically I might say," he explained." I also found multiple contusions on the poor man's chest and stomach. Someone wanted this man to suffer before he died."

"Yeah, I got that Duck," said Gibbs as he studied the body for himself.

"Then there's this." Ducky gestured for Gibbs to come around to the other side, where he lifted up Hepburn's shoulder to reveal a strangely shaped scar. "Laser removal of what I suspect would have been a gang tattoo. I believe Abigail is running it through the database."

"Alright, thanks Duck," said Gibbs, turning to go.

"Ah, Jethro," called Ducky. Gibbs turned back and looked at him expectantly.

"Might I ask, what happened with that boy from the crime scene? You didn't just set him loose back on the streets did you? They are no place for someone as young as him, and he quite obviously didn't belong there in the first place."

Gibbs held up a hand to calm his colleague. "I know, Duck." He resumed walking to the doors, calling over his shoulder as he did so, "I set him loose upstairs instead."

Ducky stood there for a moment before comprehension dawned on him. "Oh… of course," he grinned and went back to his body lying on the metal table in front of him. "I dare say those streets weren't a place for you either, were they Michael? Not any more, at least."

* * *

Abby's lab was alive as usual, with the music blaring loudly and machines beeping away. Abby herself always managed to bring life to the place, but tonight she had a helping hand.

"So you're telling me," said Abby humorously, pointing a half-full Caf!Pow at the small boy sitting on her stool, "that the reason they used different actors in all the James Bond movies…" Tony nodded encouragingly for her to keep going. "Is because James Bond isn't actually a person at all, but another code name?" Tony nodded again. "Like 007?" Tony grinned.

"Exactly! It's just another cover!"

"Interesting theory my man," said Abby approvingly before taking another sip of her drink.

"What is?" asked Palmer, as he walked in with a specimen jar.

"Tony has this whole conspiracy thing going on about the Bond movies," said Abby, looking back at Tony. She paused with a frown, noting his sudden change of demeanour. Tony was stock still, his hands gripping the sides of the stool as he warily examined Palmer. The ME assistant gave a confused smile and waved.

"Hey there," he said uncertainly, dropping the bullet on Abby's desk. Tony barely moved, his mouth staying shut.

"Oh, don't worry," reassured Abby. "This is Jimmy. He's harmless." She patted Palmer's shoulder as if to reinforce her message, and Tony minutely relaxed.

There was a moment of tense silence before Abby looked meaningfully at Jimmy, her grip on his shoulder tightening just slightly. "Oh, ah, guess I'll be going then," he said, getting the message. "Nice to meet you... ummm..." It was only after he left that Tony's rigid stature finally melted away and he looked down to the floor.

"Bit of a jumpy one aren't you?" commented Abby playfully as she turned back to her computer.

"Sorry," said Tony in a low voice. "I just don't like strangers."

"_We_ seem to get along," pointed out Abby before looking back at him, the mock accusation back in her voice. "Tony, you're not playing me are you?"

Tony's smile was small but genuine. "You don't seem like a stranger to me. Besides, you couldn't hurt a fly."

Something about that sentence bothered the Goth, but she said instead "What makes you say that?"

Tony shrugged. "My gut," he said simply.

Abby grinned.

She was really starting to like this kid.


	3. Chapter 3

**I warned you about my updates :P Sorry it's kinda short, and probably not my best work, but I'm late for work and really have to go, can't talk, enjoy!**

"Alright Abs, what have you got?" Gibbs walked purposefully into Abby's lab, pausing at both Abby's warning hiss and young Tony's nervous jump.

"Gibbs!" scolded Abby, glaring at him, "you're not allowed to be all Gibbs-like and use your ninja skills right now! You scared Tony!"

"Did not," mumbled Tony sulkily, rubbing his arm and looking at his shoes. Abby put her hands on her hips with cynicism painted all over her pale face.

Gibbs couldn't hold back a small smile as he walked over to their young visitor still sitting edgily on the stool. "Sorry about that Tony." Abby turned away to hide her grin - Gibbs was always so cute with kids. He reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but Tony leaned back so he almost fell off the stool, still not looking up. Gibbs's gut churned much the same way it had when he first met the kid, but he didn't let his disconcertion show. Crouching down to be at eye level, Gibbs spoke directly to Tony. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said simply.

"I know," mumbled Tony in that same defensive voice. He continued to look away.

Gibbs studied him for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the black eye, before straightening back up. "You going to let Ducky take a look at your leg yet?"

Tony finally looked up at him, though he looked sceptical. "People have the strangest names around here."

"Hey!" Abby sounded indignant. Tony offered a small, apologetic smile and went back to studying his sneakers.

"So is that a no?"

"I don't need it looked at," said Tony for what felt like the tenth time. "I told you," he was sounding exasperated, "I just twisted my ankle. It'll be fine."

Abby cut in again. "Tony, you've done more than twist it. You should have gone to a hospital."

Tony shook his head vigorously before wincing like he had done at the crime scene, and brought a hand up to steady himself. Finally he managed a quiet "don't like hospitals."

"Coulda guessed that," said Gibbs with a sigh before turning back to his forensic scientist. He would go back to worrying about the furtive boy after he had a lead on their case. That was the whole reason he came to Abby's lab after all.

Not because of a small and frightened teenager that was occupying his thoughts more than the dead marine.

Not at all.

"So have you got anything for me Abs?"

Abby bit her lip, casting a quick glance at her computer, then her MA spectrometer, then back again. "Ummm…" A beeping lit up the air and Abby looked excitedly back at her computer. "Of course I do Gibbs!"

As the two focused on DNA found that hadn't been the victim's, Tony finally allowed himself a yawn. He was exhausted and wished they would just let him go already. He really didn't want to answer any more questions about family or where he was staying. Why were they even keeping him? It's not like he killed the guy in the alley...

"You tired Tony?" Tony's eyes snapped open as Gibbs shook his shoulder gently. Jumping off the stool he had apparently begun to nap on, he let out an involuntary cry of pain as he landed on his bad leg. Not stopping however Tony backed up, cursing himself as he realised he'd headed right into a corner. Gibbs watched warily and slowly drew his hand back, Abby standing behind him looking worried. "I'm not going to hurt you Tony," he said softly, "and if someone _has_ been hurting you, I can help."

Tony glared at him suspiciously. He'd heard the speech before and been let down every time. Why should this old guy be any different? His leg throbbing, Tony winced and leaned on a shelf behind him. _Great, now I'm sweating._

"Let Ducky take a look at your leg," reasoned Gibbs gently, still not moving. Tony remained unresponsive, as still as a snake caught in headlights. Finally after a minute of tense silence, Gibbs shrugged and turned around. "Have it your way," he said, not unkindly. "How many cadavers do you think Ducky's got in Autopsy at the moment Abs?" he asked, suddenly on a different tangent.

"About five I think, why?"

Before he could answer a small voice spoke up behind them. "Ducky's the… The medical guy?"

"The medical examiner, yup," replied Abby. "The best one around at that," she added proudly.

"Is the autopsy place anything like in the movies?"

Abby grinned at Gibbs, catching on to his plan. "You want to find out?" asked Gibbs.

Tony looked from one adult to the other, sizing them up. Finally, he gave a small nod.

Gibbs smiled. "Well alright then. Follow me." He walked to the door and waited for the small and slightly underweight boy to catch up. Tony walked slowly as if still not sure he was making the right choice. Just as he reached Gibbs however he stopped and turned around.

"It was nice to meet you Abby," he said, suddenly shy.

"It was awesome to meet you Tony," she said back happily. "Come and visit me again soon ok?"

Tony nodded but his smile was sad. Gibbs had walked to the elevator by now and was waiting with the doors open but Tony stopped in his tracks when he saw it. "Are there stairs?"

Gibbs paused but soon headed towards big double doors just by the elevator. "You trying to keep in shape or something?" asked Gibbs teasingly. That got a small smirk from the boy, but he didn't answer. Instead he looked up to Gibbs with curiosity barely contained on his tired, bruised face. "Does Ducky really have five bodies down there?"

"Let's go find out."

* * *

"...And so that is when I discovered I had dislocated three of my fingers. But I wasn't able to even get them looked at until I finally navigated my way out of that dreadful mosquito infested jungle a few days later." Ducky let out a chuckle as two visitors entered Autopsy.

"Who's he talking to?" Tony whispered to Gibbs, seeing no one else in the room.

"I am talking to our dear departed Petty Officer Tony," Ducky called out without looking away from the body on the metal slab in front of him. Gibbs and his young companion stopped on the other side of the table as Tony shrugged.

"Um, ok. Makes sense... I guess."

"You know Jethro, you expect too much of me. I don't really have anything more to tell you than last time you were here I'm afraid."

"Not here for me Duck," said Gibbs, examining the body almost out of habit as he talked. "Need someone to take a look at Tony's leg." Tony was studying the body as closely as Gibbs, fascinated rather than grossed out by the opened up stomach. Ducky couldn't help but be intrigued by how similar they seemed in that moment, standing side by side.

Deciding not to bring it up, the old ME said instead "Alright Tony, let me see the damage." He gestured to one of the tables not in use and Tony hopped up on it, wincing.

"He was having trouble on the stairs all the way down," muttered Gibbs.

"I wasn't that bad," muttered Tony, annoyed.

"You took the stairs?" asked Ducky, shocked, as he gently reached out to lift up the leg of Tony's jeans. Tony flinched, automatically pulling his leg back. "It's alright my boy, I'm not going to hurt you." Tony nodded, silently scolding himself, and tried to relax. Gibbs answered Ducky's question as the old Scot began to examine Tony's leg.

"Don't look at me Duck, it was his choice" he gestured to the young boy who was completely focused on his leg as Ducky gently prodded the swollen ankle and he winced.

"Was it now? And here I was beginning to think you were allergic to those stairs Jethro."

"Hey, I'll use them when I have to."

Tony smiled as he listened to their conversation. He was beginning to feel comfortable amongst their casual words. Looking around the room he couldn't help but think that for a place so full of death… Well it might just be the safest place he'd ever been.


	4. Chapter 4

**FINALLY. A new chapter. Sorry about the wait. I hope it's okay. I just finished watching the Blues Brothers for the third time this week (Best movie ever, I might add), and got all energised. So here you go.**

"You are looking a bit perkier Tony," commented Ziva cheerily from her desk. He and Gibbs had just entered the bullpen, Tony limping on a bandaged leg.

"Abby let me try her Caf-Pow," said Tony with am energised grin.

"And Ducky bandaging your leg has nothing to do with it," commented Gibbs drily, sitting down and checking his computer.

McGee, who had been talking on the phone, hung up and spoke to Gibbs with a furtive glance to Tony. "Boss, an Anthony DiNozzo is here, says we have his son."

All eyes went to Tony, who's buzzing energy had dissipated quicker than smoke.

"What's your full name, Tony?" asked Gibbs gently, standing and walking around his desk to face the young boy.

Tony only shook his head, backing away towards the windows. The special agents watched him curiously, Gibbs' gut rolling over. The bruises, the skittish behaviour, the leg…

"I should go," gasped the teenager, his face paling. "Thanks for - for helping and - and everything." Tony turned to run, forgetting the fact he had no idea how to get around the building. His still swollen leg would only hinder him, but Tony didn't care. He was unable to think straight.

He had defied his father once, and considering the punishment no doubt waiting for him, Tony didn't think he'd be able to again.

But before Tony could make it five steps the elevator doors opened and out stepped three men. Tom Burns was one Tony recognised, a close family friend and lawyer to the DiNozzo estate, a tall man with balding hair and a permanent frown. Another man Tony didn't know was just to his left, and ahead of them…

_How did he find me?_

Tony was once again backing away, this time while barely realising it, and unknowingly stepping back into the middle of the bullpen where three NCIS agents were eyeing the visitors warily. Gibbs lay a hand on Tony's trembling shoulder and stepped in front of him. With a sense of suspicion he realised he recognised one of the men as NCIS Agent Juliette, a man from a lower level of the building.

"Something you need?" asked Gibbs bluntly as the trio came to a stop at the edge of the bullpen.

"Yes, I'm Anthony DiNozzo. Senior." DiNozzo had the grin of a crocodile cornering his pray. "I believe you're holding my son." At this the richly clad man tilted his head slightly, knowing full well who was cowering behind the senior agent. "Hello there, Junior. What a mess you've gotten yourself into."

Gibbs stared the other man down, not liking a bit of what he saw, or suspected was under the surface.

"Um - " attention was focused on Tim as he spoke up, except for Gibbs who continued to glare at DiNozzo and Tony who was staring wide eyed at his shoes. "We'll need proof Tony's your son."

Senior smirked. "Well for one, his name is _Anthony_. None of this Tony nonsense. And naturally, I can prove that is my _beloved_ boy." At this the serious balding man stepped forward, producing a stash of documents from his thick coat.

"You'll find this all in order;" stated the man, "proving this is indeed Mr DiNozzo's son." Gibbs reached his hand out to accept the papers without averting his eyes. "You'll also find, on top, the appropriate paperwork releasing Anthony DiNozzo Junior from your supervision. I'm afraid you have no grounds to hold a fourteen year old boy."

A million thoughts raced through Gibbs' head, the most paramount one being _never, ever involve lawyers._

"I think it's time we go home Anthony," called DiNozzo confidently.

To the surprise of Ziva and McGee, Tony stepped out from behind Gibbs, his face set, a mask of his earlier obvious fear. "Yes Sir," he mumbled.

"Tony's a witness to a murder, Mr DiNozzo," pointed out Gibbs calmly, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder gently once again. He could still feel minute shaking throughout Tony's thin body.

"As you will see on the third page," spoke up the lawyer, "you are unable to hold my client's son, as you have no evidence tying him to the case and interviewed him without a legal guardian or social worker present."

"You are talking as if he is a suspect," said Ziva, sounding almost shocked.

"Is he?" asked Mr DiNozzo in mock surprise.

"Of course not!"

"Then he will be coming home with me," the man said confidently. "Come on Junior."

With only a split second of hesitation Tony limped forward, obeying on instinct, trying not to think of the consequences of his little rebellion.

_I tried_, he thought miserably. _But Dad will always find me._

He had begun to slowly make his way back to the elevator, with his father on one side and Tom on the other, but was stopped just as the lawyer reached out to press the down button.

"Tony." Tony turned in time to see Gibbs walking towards him, a bundle in his hand. "Don't forget your coat."

Tony remained silent as Gibbs handed him a brand new coat he had never seen before. The simple gesture broke Tony a little inside. A complete stranger was being so nice to him and had ever since he'd first spoken to him. Everyone he'd met from NCIS had been the same way. He wasn't sure he deserved it. Let alone this coat he was being given right under his father's nose.

"You need to pay more attention to where you leave your things Junior," scolded Anthony casually.

Tony only nodded in response, afraid his voice would break if he spoke aloud. With that the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Tony watched the doors close on Gibbs, realising sadly he'd never even gotten his full name. Just as the doors closed completely, Tony could have sworn Gibbs gave him a small nod of reassurance.

Well, he couldn't be sure it was reassurance.

But he liked to think it was.

As the elevator closed Gibbs turned back to his team, fuming. Ziva and Tim looked just as troubled.

"Bastard doesn't even know his own son's jacket." Gibbs growled before turning on the agent from downstairs. "You called them?" he asked angrily.

Juliette nodded nervously. "I know the family from - from a business deal I was involved in a few years back. Knew the father would want to know."

"A business deal? Really?" asked Ziva sceptically. "Is that what they are calling it these days?"

"Yeah, doesn't sound shady at all," added McGee suspiciously. The agent only shrugged, avoiding all of their eyes, and walked towards the stairs.

"McGee, find out everything you can on Anthony DiNozzo Senior," Gibbs said quietly, resentment dripping off of the last word. "And figure out whatever mess got Agent Juliette at his beck and call."

McGee nodded. "Do you think we'll hear from him again?"

Ziva smiled. "I slipped my card into his coat pocket."

Gibbs nodded, almost smiling.

He had too.

* * *

It was silent in the car on the way home. Tony reached his hands into the pockets of his new coat to hide the trembling. Not a word was spoken, but the tension continued to build, and Tony knew it would break when they got home.

Consumed by apprehension of what was to come, the fourteen year old boy didn't even notice two small squares of plastic in the pockets.

**Sorry if it's not the best. I think I'll try and add a bit more detail from now on, internal dialogue, that kind of thing, what do you think?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ta daaa! I'm alive!**

**I am so sorry. Seriously. I know I've taken way too long. And I don't want to bore you with A/Ns, so basically I'll save the excuses for now. To the few people who saw my A/N chapter before it was deleted, I haven't made my second video yet, I'll let you know when I do. To the people who have no idea what I'm talking about, sorry again, I'll explain at the bottom.**

**Hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

Tony stepped out of the car to look up at the big, cold building he was supposed to call home. To think he was back here already. He had to resist a mirthless laugh.

_I didn't even make it for 24 hours._

"I'll talk to you tomorrow Tom," called Senior through the window before beginning his march to the house. Without a glance back, he knew Tony would follow. There was no escaping him now.

It was silent right up to when they walked through the front doors, Tony keeping as much space between him and his father as he dared.

"Junior," Senior said calmly, "wait in my study will you? I think we need to have a little talk."

For a brief second Tony looked back out the front door, judging the distance from there to the front gate, entertaining the idea he could do it again.

He knew he would never make it.

"Yes father," he answered instead, walking dejectedly up the stairs.

"I'll be with you in a moment," Senior said before walking to the kitchen. No doubt he'd run out of the scotch he kept hidden in his desk and needed a refill.

The study was located on the very other end of the house to Tony's bedroom, something Tony had a feeling was not by accident. Better to keep the nuisance as far away as possible after all. Not for the first time, Tony wondered why his dad hadn't just thrown him out onto the streets himself.

Except he knew why. He knew what his father did for a living, not just the crap shown on paper. He knew Senior would never let that get out. He couldn't risk it.

Tony forced his hands to steady as he opened the door to the study and went to stand rigidly by the only bookcase in the room. This was just like any other time he'd been caught doing something wrong. Waiting in this room, this place of blood and pain, was just like any other time his father had managed to resist punishing him where he stood. The study was where he was sent, every time. He would get through this, because he always did.

Except this wasn't like any other time. Tony knew, deep down, he'd never done something quite this bad before. He had never made such an act of defiance. This, he realized, was unchartered territory.

Tony's hands were trembling again, and he cursed his own weakness, shoving them back into the pockets of his new coat. His mind retreated to that brighter building and the strange man who had given it to him. Tony's tense muscles relaxed slightly as he recalled seeing the dead body and trying to piece together what happened, talking with Abby in her lab about nothing and everything; it had been short, but Tony had enjoyed the time he spent at NCIS. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe, in a different life, he could have ended up working there himself. Maybe one day, when he'd escaped Senior.

Tony snorted. Yeah. Like that was going to happen.

It was then that his hands curled around the plastic cards in his pocket. He pulled them out curiously. They held separate names; Ziva David on one and Leroy Jethro Gibbs on the other. Huh. So that was his full name.

They were business cards, different to the ones his father had of course, but he recognised them and their purpose. For contact, to get in touch.

_To call for help?_

Tony's eyes widened. That couldn't be it could it? They had been left in the jacket by accident, surely. The jacket had probably been used before by someone else, and that was how the cards had been left there. It's not like _they_ had put them there. Not on purpose. Right?

Tony knew how it worked. Sure, there'd been suspicion before, and occasionally a cop or someone equally powerless would try and help, give a few nudges here and there, but when that failed and Tony was taken home, that was it. No more ever came from it. Tony figured they were always just relieved the problem was out of their hair. That's how the system works.

So surely this was a mistake. Nothing he should look into. He should get rid of the cards, forget what happened and face what was coming.

Except he didn't want to get rid of the cards, and he certainly didn't want to forget. Despite his time there being short, Tony had felt comfortable at NCIS, not safe exactly _(never safe)_ but more at home than he ever had here. He didn't want to forget that.

And, looking at the closed door with apprehension, Tony realised he really didn't want to go through this again either. He just wasn't ready for what was coming next. He was too tired, too scared, too sore already. He just couldn't handle this for the rest of his life, no matter how many times he'd tried to convince himself otherwise.

_I don't want to get hurt again._

Tony heard footsteps getting closer, walking down the hall with purpose, and before he even understood what he was doing he had rushed forward and locked the door. Looking down at the cards clutched tightly in his hand, Tony ran towards the landline phone resting on the desk. He hesitated to pick up the receiver, wondering just how stupid a move this was. Those agents didn't want to hear from him again. It was all just a mistake. They'd tell him he had the wrong number, or that there was nothing they could do, they'd hang up and Tony would never recover. It was dumb. Almost as dumb as running away in the first place.

The door rattled and then there was heavy knocking. "What do you think you're playing at Junior?" The voice was loud and calm and sent shivers down Tony's spine. Without any further ado, he picked up the phone and dialled the number.

The door rattled again and this time his father's voice was less calm. "Open this door now Junior!" Tony gained a sickly sense of déjà vu and remembered just how well his last attempt at defiance had gone.

The phone was answered on the second ring. "Gibbs," came the gruff greeting.

Tony opened his mouth but suddenly realized he had no idea what to say. Panic gripped him and he struggled to find words.

"Who is this?" Gibbs asked impatiently and Tony almost slammed the phone back down. But the door rattled once more, harder than ever, and Senior's voice was now angry and raised.

"A weak little lock isn't going to keep me out Junior! You're only making this worse you stupid boy!"

Finally Tony found his voice and he willed it to be steady. "Gibbs, I'm sorry, I know you're busy, and I know I shouldn't have called, and I probably - "

"Tony, slow down." Tony took a deep breath, his eyes darting to the door that was now shaking violently. "Where are you?"

"I'm - I'm at my house. But…" Tony cursed himself as his voice cracked slightly, hating the amount of weakness he was managing to convey in just one phone call. "I don't want to be, Gibbs."

"Alright, we're coming for you now," said Gibbs quickly and Tony couldn't help but feel shocked. He honestly hadn't been expecting a whole lot to come from this, and after only a few sentences Gibbs was coming to help him. He was misunderstanding wasn't he? "Can you tell us where you live?"

Tony nodded, forgetting Gibbs couldn't see, and quickly rambled off his address.

"Okay kid, sit tight, and stay on the line."

There was a slight pause and finally Tony forced himself to ask "are you really coming?"

"Yeah Tony, we are." assured Gibbs, his voice deep and steady.

That reply might have comforted Tony if the door hadn't been slammed open at that moment, his father appearing red-faced. "What the hell do you think you're doing Anthony?" he growled. Tony stared, frozen, his hand squeezing the phone so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

"Tony? You there?" came Gibbs' voice.

Panicking, Tony slammed the phone down and backed away, knowing full well there was nowhere to go.

Senior advanced, a full bottle of scotch sloshing around in his hand, and Tony mentally crossed his fingers, praying to whatever cruel god existed that Gibbs wasn't lying. He hoped he would be there soon.

**Yeah. So. I uploaded a quick author's note about two months ago explaining I would be away for a while and why, but one very unhappy anonymous reviewer pointed out that it was against the rules and unfair to just upload a chapter that is me talking. They made a very good point so I deleted it, which is why anyone on story alert would have been told a new chapter was up and then they didn't get one. Sorry again. Feel free to PM me if you want the details, I just don't want to clog up this chapter with A/Ns. So sorry again guys.**

**-feels terribly guilty-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! Can I just say, the amount of support I got from my last chapter was phenomenal, and I'm so grateful. You all really made my day, thank you so much. Seriously. To everyone who reviewed with their kind words, I give a huge thanks.**

**Good news! I've decided to make it my goal to update this story EVERY FRIDAY (Thursday if you're in America I think) as a way of trying to keep myself on track and not neglect it. My life hasn't quite settled down yet and I am going through my last year of school so I can't promise I will make the deadline every time, but I'm going to do my very best. I promise :)**

"Boss, Abby just emailed me," stated McGee across the bullpen. "The substance Ducky found on the body is spit."

"It belong to someone McGee?" asked Gibbs impatiently, with only half his mind on the case.

"Yeah, a Patrick Clarke," he read out. "He's been charged with a few misdemeanours - petty theft, vandalism…" McGee sent the mug shot of a mousy guy with uneven stubble to the plasma. "He's got one charge of assault from a couple of years ago. And, big surprise, he's believed to be a member of the Rookes, the latest low down gang to hit Washington streets." Gibbs stood opposite the screen, studying Clarke's picture, and took note of the tattoo on the back of his neck, in the form of a snake coiled in on its self.

"Bring him in," ordered Gibbs. McGee nodded and stood up, holstering his gun as he did so, with Ziva mirroring his actions.

Suddenly his mobile phone was going off and he answered it with the usual hint of impatience. "Gibbs."

He could tell someone was on the other end from the heavy breathing, but whoever it was didn't say a word. He clicked his fingers in the direction of McGee and Ziva, who had just been leaving the bullpen, and gestured them back. "Who is this?" he asked with a meaningful look at McGee. The younger agent immediately nodded and sat back down at his computer, typing away furiously as he attempted to trace the call.

"Gibbs, I'm sorry, I know you're busy, and I know I shouldn't have called, and I probably - " Gibbs immediately stood, the voice of a young and very familiar boy reaching out to him. All thoughts of Patrick Clarke were immediately expelled from his mind.

"Tony slow down," he said, his voice slightly louder but still steady. "Where are you?"

"I'm - I'm at home. But - " Gibbs heard Tony's voice break and his fist clenched. He sounded so vulnerable, so scared. "I don't want to be Gibbs."

The highly trained agent could hear faint noises of a commotion in the background and he just _knew_ what was happening, what was going to happen, what had probably happened so many times before. Tony needed his help. There was no way he would deny the young teenager that. "Alright, we're coming for you now," reassured Gibbs, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he grabbed his gun. "Can you tell us where you live?"

McGee held up a post-it with an address already scribbled down, and Gibbs nodded. Directing his full attention back to the phone held so tightly to his ear, Gibbs told Tony to stay on the line, already walking to the elevator as he did so. Only silence replied with faint yelling and banging continuing in the background. For a terrifying moment Gibbs thought he was already too late, but then a small voice asked "are you really coming?"

The fact Tony sounded so uncertain only served to fuel the concern and anger burning deep within Gibbs' gut. "Yeah Tony, we are." He stepped into the elevator.

"What is happening Gibbs?" asked Ziva, who along with McGee had followed him without question. Gibbs might have to acknowledge his small team's commendable performance next time they were in a less critical moment. For now his only response was to find the loudspeaker button on his phone so they could all hear what was going on at the other end. There was the sound of another crash, louder and closer this time, and McGee visibly blanched. There was a low and rumbling voice, and while Gibbs couldn't hear what was said, all three of them could hear the intent clear as day.

"Tony, you there?" asked Gibbs urgently. There was a thud and a click and suddenly the line had gone dead.

Gibbs swore and slammed his whole hand against the already lit button of the elevator.

* * *

It was one of those rare occasions that Gibbs' driving didn't come into question and in fact was being silently encouraged by his agents. The agency car screeched into the long driveway after what could have only been twenty minutes, but had already felt like days too late.

A lot could happen in twenty minutes.

"Mr DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled out, waiting only a moment before kicking open the door. With guns in hands the agents spilled through into the large, ornate house, their shoes scuffing against the polished tiles of the first floor. There was a closed door off to the left and another straight ahead with an oversized staircase situated next to it. It was dark, the only light filtering through the one window by the door, providing shadows in all corners of the lobby. Before the two doors could be considered, the echo of a large crash flew towards them from the second floor.

Gibbs lead the charge as they quietly rushed up the stairs, his gun clutched tightly in his hands. He didn't want to use it. This man was still Tony's father, not to mention the fact that Gibbs just hated using any type of firearm around kids in general. But if it came down to it… if he had no other choice…

The sounds of commotion continued and now yelling could be heard, a loud and angry voice. The team headed straight for it, the spacious hallway stretched out in front of them. No lights were switched on up here either, but more windows provided a bit of sunlight to see by.

"Still standing are we boy? Still all rearing to get away? We can't have that!" A heavy thud followed the cruel words.

Gibbs' blood went cold and he ran faster, Ziva and McGee right on his tail. As they got closer to the end room they could see it in more detail; the doors were spread wide apart but it was completely dark, darker than anywhere else in the house. An imposing figure could be made out, almost nothing more than a silhouette, and Gibbs raised his gun steadily as he came to a stop a few feet away from the doorway. "Step away from him DiNozzo," he ordered steadily.

The figure turned and some of Senior's features were now visible, his face an ugly mix of rage and shock. "What the hell?" Now that he'd moved Gibbs was just able to make out Tony, slumped against a small, upturned bookcase. He couldn't see his face. He couldn't see how badly the teen was hurt.

"Put your hands behind your head!" yelled Ziva, her and Tim flanking Gibbs on either side, their guns held just as steady as his.

"You're fucking joking," breathed Senior. Suddenly he turned back to face Tony, who had yet to move, and advanced. "You brought them here! You little -"

The whip-crack of a gunshot reverberated against the walls and Senior stumbled to the ground just shy of where his son - _his son_ - lay. A loud cry escaped the man as he knelt awkwardly on his knees, clutching the calf of his left leg painfully. "You son of a bitch!"

"Cuff him," said Gibbs, lowering his gun. McGee stepped forward, Ziva's gun still trained on Senior just in case he tried anything, and he was pulled roughly off the ground, yelling again as he was forced to put weight on the bleeding leg. McGee pulled his hands behind his back and clicked the hand-cuffs in place, being sure to make them extra tight as he read the man his rights in an angry, low voice.

Gibbs meanwhile headed straight for the fourteen year old boy, who had not moved even when Gibbs had fired his gun. His shoes crunched against glass as he walked.

Kneeling down beside Tony he gently rested a hand on his shoulder. Gibbs could barely make out his condition in the shadows, but he could at least see Tony's eyes were open, and he was breathing - but not well. His chest rose and fell quickly, irregularly, and it made a rasping noise as the oxygen flowed in and out of his lungs. And still he did not move, did not make a sound, didn't even shift his gaze to look at Gibbs.

"Tony," Gibbs tried softly. No answer, no response of any kind.

"An ambulance is on the way," said Ziva from behind him, right as he was about to turn around and demand just that.

With no outward acknowledgement he brought his hand gently up to touch the bloodied mess on Tony's face, trying to gauge the damage in the darkness. "Tony, you with me?"

It certainly didn't seem like it.

"Turn the light on," he muttered to no one in particular.

There was a pause as McGee flicked the switch before informing unnecessarily "it doesn't work." Without encouragement he then proceeded to move to the covered windows and opened the curtains, finally shedding some real light on the situation. Finally Gibbs got a good look at the beaten boy in front of him.

Tony's already bruised eye was now swollen shut, his cheeks a bloody mess. Cursing, Gibbs pulled a small shard of glass out of the marred skin. It was hot to the touch and burned in Gibbs' fingers as realization dawned. The light hadn't worked because there was no light bulb. He looked up to the low ceiling where a cord hung uselessly. On the now stained carpet just underneath was a dented metal cone that would have once framed the light, and scattered around it were tiny pieces of glass… Gibbs looked back to Tony's face, the hot shard in his hand cutting his fingers as he squeezed it angrily. Studying Tony's face closer, Gibbs could see the small specks of burnt flesh around the cut.

Gibbs could see it all play out in his head. Tony's angry and violent father, having already beaten his fourteen year old boy, and in the need of a new weapon, to give his fists a break, he reaches out and grabs the closest thing he can. He doesn't notice as the burning heat of a working light bulb sears his own hand, he only yanks it down, snapping it from the cord, and he lunges for Tony, blindly, yet so easily hitting his mark…

Gibbs stood and turned to where Senior was stood, leaning against the doorframe with Ziva keeping a tight grip on his arm. His face was red and sweaty as his leg continued to bleed.

But it wasn't enough.

Gibbs stepped forward, arching his fist back as he did so, and there was an impressive crack as it connected with Senior's jaw, knocking him hard against the wall and into a dazed stupor.

"You won't be hurting Tony again," Gibbs muttered, not caring whether or not the monster in front of him heard. "You stupid son of a bitch."

**More will be revealed next chapter!**

**I just realized I still haven't explained to everyone why I was away for so long. Sorry about that. Look me up on YouTube, Facebook or Twitter if you're interested and I should hopefully be able to explain everything there. Thanks as always for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Not only did I make the deadline (I know, I'm as surprised as you are), this story now has over 300 followers! I'm blushing like mad here. You guys are the best.**

**As always huge thanks to everyone supporting this story, I'm so happy you're enjoying it. I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any let me know :) Every single review has made me smile, and I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Kayla-NCIS-Gomez because yours had me actually laughing. Thank you.**

Gibbs flashed his badge at the EMTs as they tried to keep him out of the ambulance and jumped in to sit by Tony, his face set. He had left Ziva and McGee to deal with DiNozzo (and reluctantly find someone to fix up his leg), but with a look promised to keep them updated - they were, after all, just as worried. It was difficult to believe they had barely even known Tony when coming to rescue him.

It didn't need to be said that Senior would be going to a completely different hospital.

The ambulance ride was torture for Gibbs. He finally had enough light to see Tony, _really_ see him, and the more he looked the more he wished he could turn away.

Aside from the blistering cuts on Tony's face and ugly swollen eye (which together were bad enough) one of Tony's ears had a slight cut at the bottom of the lobe and there was already angry colouring on his neck. As he was checked over by the busy attendant riding in the back with them, more marks were revealed; a smattering of tiny cuts flecked Tony's arms (and the light bulb couldn't have done that - what else had Senior used?) and as Tony's shirt was lifted for the woman to get a better look, Gibbs could see where bruises were already beginning to show in deep splodges of angry red and sickly dark grey. He could only imagine what else would come to the surface with time. Tony's leg, the one that he had been limping on, the one that Ducky had bandaged so carefully, was bent in a way that could not possibly mean good news, Gibbs could see that right through the jeans the boy was wearing - the same jeans he had been wearing when he first met the kid, and Gibbs was again reminded of how short a time ago that really was.

An oxygen mask had been placed over Tony's mouth before he had even been propped into the ambulance, a needle sliding deftly into his arm right after; he was now out for the count, so still Gibbs had to reassure himself by watching the rise and fall of his chest. He suppressed a shudder as he remembered the way Tony had been found, his eyes wide and staring as he remained unresponsive and seemingly oblivious to everything and anything happening around him. Gibbs' fists curled angrily. Anthony DiNozzo Senior had gone too far. He was going down for this.

* * *

Mr DiNozzo had grumbled and groaned all the way to the hospital, occasionally raising his voice to threaten just how badly he was going to sue NCIS or to assure them of what a mistake they had made. The ranting had barely slowed as he was taken through to operation. Clearly the man did not deal with pain well.

Ziva thought he'd be able to learn a thing or two from his son.

The operation was straight forward and over quickly. He was treated for the expertly aimed bullet wound and a cracked jaw (and McGee was maybe just a little disappointed there hadn't been any major complications) and by the time DiNozzo groggily came to he was chained to a hospital bed by his wrist which had already begun to chafe.

As consciousness dawned Ziva stepped closer and looked down at him with a prominent expression of disgust, McGee standing by the door and watching quietly.

"Wh… What..?" DiNozzo shook his head, trying to clear the fog, and regretted it immediately as the already unsteady world spun in front of him and his mouth mysteriously ached. He dealt with painkillers about as well as he dealt with pain. After a moment he tried to push himself into a sitting position, encumbered by the handcuffs holding him to the railing of the bed. Settling for an uncomfortable hunch he rattled the cuffs irritably and panic began to snake its way through his belly. Why was he hear? What had they found out?

"Uncomfortable are we Mr DiNozzo?" asked an accented voice and he looked back at the woman watching him sternly. Memories began to leak back through and he remembered going to NCIS, bringing his useless son home, showing him what discipline really was, and then these meddlesome agents had shown up…

DiNozzo snarled. When he got his hands on his bastard Junior…

"Handcuffs aren't too tight are they?" continued the woman agent he had never bothered to get the name of.

"They are, 's a matter of fact," DiNozzo slurred, fixing her with a lethargic glare.

"Let me fix that for you," she replied with a cold smile. Stepping closer her hand shot forward, not to his wrist but to his shoulder where she roughly pushed him back down into the bed. He hissed as his leg jerked from the force and a searing pain found its way through the medicinal barriers.

And it was then he remembered just how he got here, in the hospital.

"Your boss has made a terrible mistake," growled DiNozzo, not nearly as menacing as he intended with the sharp-eyed agent casting a shadow over him. "Where's my son?"

There was a derisive noise from the doorway and he looked over to see the other agent standing stiffly, his arms folded tightly against his chest, a glare fixed permanently on his face. DiNozzo sneered.

"You have a problem boy?"

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" the agent snapped back, his voice trembling with anger. DiNozzo rolled his eyes and lay back more, settling for staring up at the ceiling.

"You won't be holding me for long," he said confidently.

"No?" the female agent spoke up again. "We have you on assault of a minor - you're own _son_," she added with disgust and DiNozzo almost smirked. He found Junior pretty disgusting at times too. "Not to mention whatever else we unbury on you."

His mind might be clearing, but it took a moment for him to understand that last part. Clearly English was not the girl's first language.

"And we _will_ dig it up," added the other young agent. "I promise you that."

DiNozzo remained silent, allowing them to think he was worried, or trying to think of a way out, or whatever the hell these idiots were assuming of him. He was perfectly calm. People had tried to hold him before.

It wouldn't be long before he was let off with an apology and heading home. To his son. A cold smile played at his lips.

* * *

Gibbs had been pacing the waiting room of a hospital across town for what felt like far too long. He was already on his fourth coffee when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket irritably, ready to turn it off or throw it across the room - whatever shut it up quicker. But the display showed it was Ducky who was calling and so instead he grudgingly answered without about as much energy as he could muster.

"Hey Duck."

"Jethro," came the warm and friendly voice. "Where did you get off to? I was hoping to talk to you about our dear departed keeping me company in autopsy."

"I'm kind of busy right now Duck," Gibbs said tiredly, going to take a sip from his cup and realising it was empty.

Ducky, the long time friend that he was, easily picked up on the tension in Gibbs' voice. "What happened?" he asked, sounding a lot less relaxed.

"Tony, the kid you fixed up earlier, he's…" Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache pounded away at the inside of his skull. "I'm at the hospital Ducky." There was a moment of shocked silence on the other end and Gibbs forced himself to elaborate. "His father… His own…" Gibbs had to pause to steady his voice before continuing. "I think he nearly died, Duck. If we had gotten there any later, Tony might have - " Strong as he was, as cold as some might see him, Leroy Jethro Gibbs had his limits. He couldn't even continue the sentence.

"Where are you Jethro?" asked Ducky, a new determination in his voice.

"Ducky, you don't - "

"_What hospital_, Jethro?"

Hearing the urgency and desperation on the other end of the phone, the very sound that was reflecting his own emotions, Gibbs gave in and gave the name of the hospital. There was a pause as Ducky wrote it down and he was almost ready to hang up when Gibbs finally admitted in a whisper "I let him go Duck. I let him go back to that son of a bitch and he almost died."

"Jethro." Ducky's voice was full of anger, but none of it directed at his friend. "This is not your fault. You saved that boy, and he is going to need all the strength we can lend him. You need to fixate on something, fixate on that."

Gibbs nodded and it didn't matter that Ducky couldn't see. The message had come across loud and clear. "I'll see you soon Ducky." He hung up and quickly returned to his pacing.

Ducky had not yet arrived when a drawn looking man walked out of a set of double doors and headed straight for Gibbs. "You're the fed here about Anthony DiNozzo?"

Gibbs confirmed with another flash of his ID and the man nodded, walking back through the doors and gesturing for Gibbs to follow as he spoke. "I'm Dr Pearce. I'll be in charge of overseeing Anthony's treatment while he's here," he said seriously. "He had to undergo rapid surgery for his two fractured ribs and we had to conduct a fracture reduction on his left tibia, but his other injuries will simply require time and steady treatment." Gibbs didn't respond, his mouth set in a tight line. Fractured ribs. He should have guessed. They continued to navigate their way through corridor after corridor as the doctor continued. "These include numerous contusions along his chest and abdomen, multiple lacerations to his arms and face, also suffering from second degree burns, and we've cleaned and bandaged a deep gash to his lower back." Gibbs sucked in a sharp breath; he hadn't even gotten a chance to see Tony's back. "Glass was found embedded in the wound," Dr Pearce added.

Finally they stopped outside a door like any other they had walked past, and Dr Pearce turned to face him, his eyes hard. "I don't like seeing kids being used as punching bags Agent Gibbs. Who did this to him?"

"I'm afraid I can't discuss it," Gibbs replied without hesitation, no apology in his voice. The less people involved, the better. For now.

Dr Pearce studied him unhappily for a moment before saying "but you _are_ dealing with the culprit?"

"You have my word on that," replied Gibbs, and he wasn't just promising the doctor. Pearce nodded, apparently satisfied for now, and stepped out of the way of the door.

"I'm afraid this is going to involve a lot of paperwork," he said quickly, perhaps sensing Gibbs' urgency to enter the room. "I noticed there was no parent waiting for him?"

Gibbs could hear the underlying question and promptly ignored it. "Bring me the paperwork Doc, I'll sort it out." Somehow. Pearce nodded again and finally Gibbs opened the door, the doctor following close behind as he stepped into a bleak room with only one, occupied bed.

Tony was lying just as still as he had been in the ambulance and just for a moment Gibbs flashed back, but he could see the difference now. His arms were bandaged, his face slick with what was most likely numerous types of cleaning and anti-inflammation creams. Three stitches had the tear in his ear closed up. An oxygen mask that somehow seemed too big continued to cover his scrawny face and a tube was inserted through his nose while a set of wires hooked to a heart monitor snaked under the hospital gown. This was what Tony's own dad had done to him. Again, Gibbs suppressed an angry shudder.

The hardened agent walked slowly up to the fourteen year old's bed, his hand resting gently on the railing. Almost as if on cue, Tony's heart beat picked up slightly and his eyes fluttered open, the green orbs clouded over.

"He didn't physically respond well to the hematoma block we had to administer when fixing his leg," began Dr Pearce, "so he'll be out of it for quite a while. Not to mention his body is worn out from - "

Tony mumbled through the mask, cutting the doctor off, and the man stepped forward to gently remove it. Tony's eyelids looked heavy as he tried again to speak.

"Gibbs?" he asked tentatively in a weak voice, and Gibbs allowed a small, comforting smile.

"Hey Tony."

Tony's eyes roamed sluggishly around the room before coming to rest back on Gibbs and he sighed minutely. "I hate hospitals."

Gibbs didn't have a chance to respond before the boy had fallen back asleep.

**I'm nervous about this chapter, I'll admit. It's basically my first time having to write technical medical stuff, most of which I googled. If anyone goes through my browsing history they're going to be extremely worried about me.**

**Goal for next week: Shorter A/Ns. I shouldn't find it this easy to ramble.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm kind of just assuming you all either hate me or have forgotten this story exists, and words cannot describe how sorry I am. I know you're here for the new chapter and not my A/Ns, fun as I might be, so I won't go into some long explanation about my lateness, but I really am sorry.**

Gibbs stood in the doorway of the stark hospital room, watching the scene in front of him unhappily. Tony was propped up on his pillow, a serious, dark-haired woman by the name of Margaret Allison Hart talking quietly to him from the chair next to the bed. Tony would occasionally nod or reply, but his answers were short and the longer the conversation went on, the more glazed over his eyes became, the more slouched his posture.

Finally after Tony had suppressed his fourth yawn, Gibbs stepped forward, coming up beside Tony's bed to face the lawyer opposite.

"I think we should take a break," Gibbs stated, his hand resting on the rail of the bed. No sooner had the words left his mouth than Tony leaned back in tired relief, but Ms Hart only glared in response.

"I am trying to ensure an iron-clad case here Mr Gibbs, just like you asked for. I can't do that with you constantly interrupting us."

"I don't know a whole lot about being a lawyer, Ms Hart, but I'd say you still might find it a bit difficult if your client doesn't get a chance to think straight." Hart glanced at Tony, still leaning back against his pillow, his eyes now closed and his breathing steady. But Gibbs had the feeling he was still awake and listening. "He's tired. Give him a break. Hell, give yourself a break."

A moment of heated silence passed between them before Hart stood, grabbing her handbag as she did so. "I'll be back this afternoon," she said, still facing Gibbs. With that she walked around the bed, past Gibbs and out the open door. Gibbs paused in hesitation before following, glancing quickly at Tony, reluctant to leave his side - a small habit he had unknowingly grown into in his three weeks of protective custody and painful healing for the boy. But he did follow, leaving McGee standing just outside the door where he had taken up position since the start of his shift, watching out for Tony.

"You have a problem with easing up on an injured boy, Ms Hart?" he called after her, his voice carrying down the hall.

Hart paused before turning and stalking back towards him, glowering. "I resent that Mr Gibbs. To think you could actually accuse me of - "

"All I'm saying is you seem pretty bitter about having to give Tony a rest," replied Gibbs icily. "I know I asked you on this case as a favour, but - "

"But what? You think that's the only reason I'm doing this? Again you flatter yourself. That boy's situation sickens me just as much as you, Mr Gibbs. I am pushing Tony because I have to make sure I can represent him to the very best of my ability. I will not allow him to go back into the hands of that monster, despite your misgivings of me, no matter what it takes." Her nostrils were flaring with anger as she spoke, her grip on her handbag tight.

Gibbs forced himself to take a step back. They both breathed deeply in the sudden silence as Gibbs forced himself to re-assess the situation and the woman standing in front of him. Of course she was concerned for Tony's wellbeing. Of course she was. Who wouldn't be? His own concern had caused him to misjudge Ms Hart. He was beginning to let his emotions get in the way, but then that wasn't really a new development in the last few weeks.

That being realised, Gibbs still kept Rule Six in mind, and so simply inclined his head in relinquishment and turned back towards Tony's room. If that wasn't good enough for Ms Hart, than too bad.

"I'll see you this afternoon," he heard her call from behind.

When Gibbs got back to Tony's room McGee had moved from the doorway to standing by Tony's bed where his boss had been earlier. Upon his re-appearance McGee and Tony both looked at him with almost identical grins of mischief.

"What's the joke?" asked Gibbs light-heartedly, stepping into the room.

"Tony thinks you two bicker like an old married couple," Tim said bravely.

"And it's no joke," added Tony, attempting to look serious. "Be careful Gibbs, I don't think you need another wife."

"I'll be sure to take the advice of a fourteen year old under advisement, thanks," Gibbs replied, taking the chair Hart had vacated.

"Hey, I'm wiser than my years."

_I don't doubt that_, Gibbs refrained from admitting out loud. Instead he asked "how are you feeling?"

Despite Tony's apparent air of cheer, he couldn't deny the drooping eyes, pale complexion and slight tremble to his hands that had been there from the first time he had woken up in hospital. Yet it was no surprise when he opted for an answer of "pretty good, actually." Gibbs just looked at him, a look Tony had learnt to read rather well, and the young boy soon conceded with a sigh. "Well, I mean, I could still be better I guess."

"Uh-huh. You need some rest. I wasn't just using that as an excuse to get rid of your fun-loving lawyer."

Tony's face screwed up unhappily. "I'm pretty sure her idea of fun would be trying out a new paper shredder."

"You'll be thanking her in a week's time." Gibbs pointed out carefully. He could never quite tell how Tony would react to this subject. Some days Tony would accept his situation with impressive ease and an eagerness to have it behind him. Other days, sadder days, days when Tony would wake up from a nightmare and would scream and cry and shake, and Gibbs would hold his hand and pretend not to see the tears, those days he did not like the subject being brought up at all.

The subject of his father, that is.

Luckily, this was one of the better days. Tony simply said "yeah, I know," with a sigh. "I have to admit though, I was kind of spacing out towards the end there. It's hard to keep up with all this legal stuff."

"Yet another reason to remember Rule Thirteen," Gibbs said automatically.

It was almost comical the way Tony and Tim's faces both scrunched up as they searched back through their memories. It had become a game to Tony and those of Gibbs' team: who could remember the rules first? Even Gibbs had to admit the competitiveness was entertaining.

Finally after a moment's thought Tim exclaimed "never involve lawyers! Ha!" He turned to Tony who appeared to be resisting a pout. "You owe me five dollars."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow; this was new to him. When had they started betting on it?

"Actually McCheat, the rule is never _ever_ involve lawyers. So I think I win, and that's another fiver to me."

"Oh come on, there's no way that counts."

"The details are important Tim. You have to keep your mind sharp," Tony tapped the side of his head lightly with a shaky finger, "like mine." Before McGee could argue Tony turned to Gibbs, looking confused. "But isn't that kind of what we're doing Gibbs? Involving a lawyer?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Except when there is no other way," he amended.

"And there is no other way," commented Tony, his eyes suddenly downcast. It would seem he had spoken to himself more than anyone else. Gibbs and McGee shared a look over his head, but Tony quickly reverted back to his carefree façade, not liking the sudden silence. "I'm surprised you're not breaking out in hives or something Gibbs, I swear you're allergic to lawyers." His eyes widened suddenly. "I think I just discovered your kryptonite."

The grin that spread on the older man's face was very warm and very genuine as he felt a strong emotional pull to the boy - as he did every day he spent with him. "I think it's time you got some rest," he said, repeating his earlier order.

Tony was most definitely pouting now. "I hate all this napping and staying still all the time. If I don't start moving around again soon I think my legs will fall off from lack of use."

"Don't be dramatic," said Tim, "you walked to the hospital garden just yesterday."

Tony looked at him condescendingly. "Yes. The garden. About eighty feet away. Full of kids digging out the flowers." With that he looked back at Gibbs. "I think I miss my old room. I hate the children's ward."

"Hey, just be glad you _get_ your own room," pointed out Gibbs, standing up as he did so. "I'm serious Tony, get some rest."

"Fine." Tony forlornly watched the two agents make for the exit before suddenly calling out "don't forget that five bucks Tim!"

Gibbs shut the door, affectively cutting off any retort his agent had. "I'll take the shift until Ziva gets here Tim. Go and get something to eat." McGee nodded but didn't make to leave straight away. Instead he studied his boss warily, as if considering. "Say what's on your mind," Gibbs said finally.

"What's going to happen to Tony? After this case is done and Mr DiNozzo is put away?"

Gibbs was not surprised by the question. It was one that had been on his mind and in fact the whole team's since the rescue and recovery process had first began. Gibbs had already endured a number of lectures from Abby stating the numerous reasons foster care just wasn't an option, and a long talk with Ducky over who could be best suited to taking in a fourteen year old.

But unfortunately Tony's only other family anyone had found lived in England, and they had already made it clear they would not be uprooting everything to come look after Tony, nor would they bring him to them. Their suspicions of DiNozzo Senior and his work had long estranged the relations and they did not want to be involved.

Gibbs hadn't mentioned that particular phone conversation to Tony.

But what other option was there?

A small voice in the back of Gibbs' mind again reminded him of one other idea, an idea that had been niggling at him for a while. But Gibbs was still unsure of how to see it. It would keep Tony safe, it would mean he had a home, it would give him security and maybe even familiarity.

_I could take him in._

It was tempting. Surprisingly, sorely tempting. Tony DiNozzo had worked his way into Gibbs' heart unknowingly and with surprising speed, but it just seemed so right, as if they were meant to have known each other from the very start.

And yet the idea was so damn scary. It had been a long time since Gibbs had been a part of a family, other than the makeshift one that was his team, but there were no kids in his team. He had not had such a responsibility in a very long time. What if he failed? What if he did wrong by Tony, what if he had forgotten how to become a guardian, a… a parent?

And what about Shannon and Kelly? They may not physically be around anymore but they were still very much with Gibbs every day. Despite his good intentions and inexplicable affection for Tony, he couldn't help the little well of guilt that had been dug since the idea first came to mind. What if he were abandoning them?

But still, Gibbs looked back at the closed door of the room where Tony DiNozzo lay, still battered and bruised from the attack of his so called father three weeks ago, and he wondered.

**More characters and details will be found next chapter, whenever that may be. Infinite thanks to everyone who has been supporting me so far, especially to those who have been messaging me asking about my stories and if I'm still writing them - I will do my best to do better for you guys in the future. Much as I love writing these stories, you guys make it all the more worthwhile :)**


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